


A Clock Tower

by taramacIay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys Kissing, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taramacIay/pseuds/taramacIay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are running from the monsters that run the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Clock Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse any OOC-ness.   
> Set after season 8.

Step after step after step after step. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot - over and over again. Never tripping up, never faltering because they couldn't afford to fall now. The constant, repetitive thudding of their shoes against the ground was comforting and let them concentrate on just  _running_ without having wayward thoughts distract them. 

Their hands were empty instead of holding either a handgun or a knife; anything that would help fend off attackers was game, and a tree branch would've been better than nothing, dammit.

The pair of them - once they had been seven, but the  _other team_ [because what were the others but monsters who thought this a thrilling and exciting game] had soon taken them down - ran even as their muscles screamed in pain and they all had a stitch in their chests. 

The town was oddly vacant - upon their arrival it was eerie and uncomfortable, but not they would rather it were empty than occupied with these monsters - yet they seemed to be followed from every side. 

The town square, the tallest of the pair recalled, was a large space built around a clock monument. Around said monument were sculptures of Greek gods and goddesses, all intertwined to make it seem as if it were all a single sculpture instead of multiple.

Behind one of the goddesses, however, was a door to the tower itself - with stairs leading up to the clock - it was the only place he could think of that was secure enough to hide in.

With a nudge and a nod to the side, he warned his companion about the change of direction and sharply turned to the left. He didn’t need to glance back to know that the message was received, and that the other was hot on his heels.

The tower was close by, and he could just about see it from between the small trees – void of leaves but with an abundance of branches – and he made himself go a bit faster, knowing once they were inside the tower they could rest a bit.

Although he was the tallest, and had the longest legs, a brown coat and dark hair overtook him before he reached the tower – luckily enough – and, with his blue eyes scanning the square for approaching attackers, he opened the rusted door for them quickly. “Get in,” he hurried, pulling the hunter in by the jacket. “You have the blade?” He asked once the door was locked.

Dean, who was still panting and holding his side in pain, nodded. “I don’t know why you didn’t take it, Cas,” he coughed as he reached a hand in his pocket and pulled out the silver blade. “Those sons of bitches don’t know when to give up, do they?” He sat on the stairs, resting his elbows on his knees.

Cas inspected their surroundings; a small room with steep, spiral stairs leading to the top, before scrutinising the object, as if judging its condition, before putting it away. “They are more persistent than I had originally thought.” He, too, was breathing quickly, but the pain faded away more quickly for him than it did for Dean.

Dean’s retort was cut off by loud banging all around them, and the tower felt very small all of a sudden. “They can’t get in. There’s iron behind the sculptures.” It seemed more like he was trying to reassure himself than a fact.

Cas looked towards the door for a few seconds, before turning his gaze back to Dean. “They will get in. Iron only weakens them, but they are many.”

“And the blade will kill them?” Dean asked, for the third time that day.

“According to the legend,” Castiel responded truthfully, his hand slowly reaching back to the hilt of the object. “Legends have a certain truth to them.”

Dean sighed, expecting the bluntness of his friend, and replied; “So you’re going to go out there, gank some monsters and I will go to the clock and put a gear in.” It was more of a question, than a statement and the raised eyebrow proved his scepticism.

“Not any gear, the central gear. _Only_ that one, and none other.”

“Yes, _mother_ ,” Dean retorted with an eye roll. There was a moment of silence between the two, and Dean cleared his throat.  “So, err... Good luck.”

Cas just stared at him, head tilted slightly in thought. In a split second, his hand let go of the blade, and it fell to the ground with a clanging sound. Outside, the thuds were rapidly becoming more frequent and, apparently, they were weakening the door.

However, the pair didn’t notice any of this, because, whilst all that happened, Castiel had taken one step forward, until his and Dean’s noses were barely touching. With a confidence that usually came to people when they were facing extreme danger and possibly certain death, he met his lips with Dean’s and his hands with his hips.

It didn’t take too long for Dean to react – two, maybe four seconds – but when he did it became desperate and passionate, and Dean’s hands suddenly found themselves entangled in Cas’ messy hair. Just as quickly, their lips parted, and they were already breathing as if they’d ran a marathon.

For half a minute they stayed like that; their noses and foreheads touching and their lips a centimetre away from each other, but the moment had to end and the banging they had tuned out became louder, merging into crashing.

“Shit,” Dean muttered as Castiel retrieved the blade from the ground. The door was being broken down, and they had seconds before it was destroyed.

He looked up at Cas one last time, and chanced another peck to his lips before winking. “If we make it out alive, I owe you another,” he warned the ex-angel as he walked up a few steps.

With a small smile, blue eyes looked up at him and winked back, “I’ll hold you to that, Dean.” And they turned their backs on each other, one running up the steps whilst the other through an open door, into a group of whatever monsters the town had created.

 


End file.
